


stress relief

by scriveyner (trismegistus)



Series: Voltron Fic Collection [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 21:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/scriveyner
Summary: It had been a while, yes. They’d been busy, they all had been busy - saving the universe wasn’t exactly a part-time job with plenty of opportunity for side projects - but Lance didn’t realize exactly how long it had been until Shiro flipped him and he ended up with a face full of training mat and Shiro’s palm, heavy between his shoulder blades. Lance gasped out a probably-inappropriate noise when Shiro’s mouth almost touched his ear, his weight pinning Lance to the mat, his breath hot.My room. Twenty minutes.





	

It had been a while, yes. They’d been busy, they _all_ had been busy - saving the universe wasn’t exactly a part-time job with plenty of opportunity for side projects - but Lance didn’t realize exactly how long it had been until Shiro flipped him and he ended up with a face full of training mat and Shiro’s palm, heavy between his shoulder blades. Lance gasped out a probably-inappropriate noise when Shiro’s mouth almost touched his ear, his weight pinning Lance to the mat, his breath hot.

_My room. Twenty minutes._

Then his weight was gone and Shiro’s leader-voice was back on full volume; leaving Lance panting, his fingers curled against the mat and his heart thudding against his ribs like a bird trying to get free from its cage. It took longer than it should have for him to regain his feet but no one was really paying attention to him because Shiro was already going full-tilt against Keith. Lance stood barefoot on the mat and watched Shiro, all coiled muscle and momentum, and never really caught his breath.

They’d done this enough times now that he shouldn’t be nervous and yet he hesitated to put his hand on the wall plate beside Shiro’s door at the end of the hall. Lance looked furtively around, as if it were some kind of secret, this thing that existed between him and Shiro - as if Keith hadn’t grabbed him by the shoulder one day and slammed him into the shower wall and made vague threatening noises about what he’d do to Lance if Lance was just using Shiro - but there was no one about. There was hardly anyone about, it was an enormous castle-ship with just seven passengers.

Eleven, if you counted the mice.

Shiro stood when the door opened, and he was already naked. Lance took a deep breath despite himself, his eyes flickering over Shiro’s form, tempted to lick his lips. He was absolutely exquisite; broad shoulders and lean waist and there was just so much power and grace in his movement that it made Lance just want to lay back and watch him; sadly that wasn’t really an option when Shiro crossed the room and had Lance in his arms before he could even properly react.

Lance’s arms went over his shoulders automatically, looped around the back of his head as Shiro kissed him, devoured his mouth, kissed fire down his jaw. This was nothing but stress relief, he’d told himself when it had started; not realizing how intoxicating Shiro’s kisses were, how it felt to be scooped up in his arms, pinned to the wall, overpowered. Lance laughed breathlessly as Shiro sucked a dark mark into the skin above his collarbone, felt his shoulders hit the door as Shiro braced him against it. “Shiro, _Shiro-_ ” Lance managed, as Shiro shifted them so he only had one hand under Lance, the other pulling down the collar of the cotton shirt Lance had worn to the training room.

“Not here,” Shiro said into Lance’s skin, his mouth never losing contact.

Lance inhaled, felt the syllables heavy on his tongue. “Takashi,” he said, and Shiro lifted his head finally, a smirk curling across his face.

It was _forbidden_ , he’d never even heard _Keith_ call him that, and Shiro and Keith were as thick as kin. “Again,” Shiro prompted, watching Lance intently.

“Takashi,” Lance said softly, and pushed his hands through Shiro’s short hair. Shiro rumbled and grinned, pleased. “Take me to bed, Takashi.”

Shiro’s hands on his skin were mismatched, hot and warm, the Galra prosthetic mimicking human warmth but the temperature never quite right. Lance didn’t mind the discrepancy, he loved trying to tell which hand Shiro was touching him wtih, never shying from the prosthetic, opening his mouth happily for Shiro to push two of his fingers in and suckle them. He would do anything that Shiro asked of him here, in these rumpled, dirty sheets that smelled so much like the man above him.

“ _Lance_ ,” Shiro said against his neck, palm flat on Lance’s chest, right above his heart. “Nervous?” Shiro said into the short hair at the nape of his neck. Lance laughed, and felt how Shiro went stiff as he tightened, reveled in the feeling of control that gave him.

“Never,” Lance said, lied, breathed through clenched teeth as Shiro shifted their angle and changed the sensation. He always meant to just let Shiro use him, to lie back and let it happen but it never just _happened_ ; it was dynamic and it changed every time, different angles, different positions, Shiro’s eyes and intense gaze and heavy breath against his skin, hand squeezing tight around Lance, stroking him, keeping him from ending it all too soon. Lance sobbed _fuck me, Takashi_ into the pillow because he couldn’t, anymore, couldn’t focus and Shiro would keep going until they were both pushed so far past the brink that there was no coming back, he came hard and blisteringly hot and as his brain shorted out for a few brief seconds he heard five, six words groaned into his skin that he was never meant to hear.

In the deafening silence of the after, when the loudest thing in the room was their shared, panted breath, Lance put his hand to his chest and felt his heart, jackhammer fast, unstoppable. He wasn’t supposed to hear, he shouldn’t’ve - and Shiro’s hand covered his own, on his chest, not that much larger than his. He could feel Shiro’s heartbeat through his back, felt their hearts beat in time, and let out a small laugh. “Takashi,” he said, softly, lazily, because here it was still allowed, and ‘Takashi’ was so much different than Shiro.

“I mean it,” Shiro said, fingers twining with Lance’s, and that action served as enough of a diversion because Lance was pretty sure his heart had actually stopped. “Every word.”

_love you so much, lance_

“I want to go again,” Lance said, because that was a distraction, and he felt Shiro’s arms wrap around him now, holding him back against Shiro’s chest, and Shiro spoke directly into his ear so that there would be no mistake this time, no way to hide the words that resonated in his chest, echoed down his spine, seeded his gut.

_That guy’s my hero…_

“I love you too, Takashi,” Lance said, as Shiro caught his jaw and tilted him back the right angle to kiss him.

Stress relief, indeed…


End file.
